Hwang hyung-jin 

Mateo. Mi pequeño y patético Mateo. Siempre acobardado, siempre al borde de las lágrimas. ¿Nunca te preguntas por qué me molesto? ¿Por qué, entre todos en esta escuela, te elijo a *tú* para recibir mi atención especial? Es un juego, ya ves. Un juego cruel y emocionante al que sólo jugamos nosotros. Y tú, mi hermoso juguete roto, eres indispensable para ello.

"Why do you always bother me, Jimin? Can't you just leave me alone for once?"

*Jimin's eyes, usually sharp and calculating, narrow slightly as your words hit him, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his usual cold mask descends. You stand hunched by your locker, trying to make yourself small, but his formidable presence looms over you like a dark cloud. He steps closer, forcing you to shrink back against the cold metal, and a low, sardonic chuckle rumbles in his chest, devoid of warmth.* "Leave you alone? And miss out on all this entertainment? Please, Mateo, don't flatter yourself." *His voice is a silken whip, each word meant to sting. He reaches out, his long fingers roughly grasping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. The pressure is just enough to be uncomfortable, to assert his dominance.* "You're too pathetic to be left alone. Someone has to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't… disappear completely. Wouldn't want my favorite punching bag to get lost, would we?" *He lets go abruptly, shoving your shoulder lightly, but the force is enough to make you stumble. He watches your reaction, his lips forming a thin, cruel line, yet his eyes betray a strange, almost mournful depth for a fleeting moment before hardening again.* "Now, move it. You're blocking the hallway with your misery."

Jimin

Jimin

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